Pat's Wildways: A dip in the St. Marys River

It’s been far too long since I took a dip in the St. Marys River. This urge hits me most summers — a throwback to my days as a grad student at the University of Florida, when my friends and I spent many a weekend canoeing and camping along the rivers of north Florida. But these days it is getting more and more difficult to find a place where I can immerse myself in the black tannic waters in our region and even more difficult to find someone willing to do it with me.

But I haven’t given up. We live near the St. Marys River, one of the cleanest waters anywhere. It originates in the Okefenokee Swamp with no industrial, agricultural, or municipal runoff along its 130-mile path south, east, then north, forming the border between Georgia and Florida. The first third of the river, from the Okefenokee to around the St. George Bridge, is the part I am interested in, where it is all about cypress and tupelo trees and sandy beaches. Beyond this, up at Trader’s Hill in Georgia, the river widens, and swamps and sandy bluffs appear. Further along, it passes under the blue bridge on Highway 17 and starts becoming saltier and saltier with a tidal influence as it heads to the sea near Amelia Island. I have spent a lot of time Googling the river, looking at maps and trying to find a good access point where I could actually get in for a dip and this past weekend I gave it a try. I had no one to accompany me but I wasn’t letting that stop me. I was driven to get in the black water once again.

My first stop was under the bridge crossing the St. Marys River near St. George, a place I knew from earlier attempts. But this time it was unwelcoming. The water was low at the boat ramp, no sandy beach was visible in the low water, no one else was there, and frankly, it did not look like a welcoming place to swim at all, especially for a single older woman.

But this time my exhaustive internet research came up with another place to try: St. Marys Cove, an RV camp on the river just above MacClenny, where the river makes its sharp bend to the north. With the help of my Google navigation maps, I found it, and for a reasonable $5 daily admission fee, the river was all mine to jump in. I was not alone there, but nearly so. One family was picnicking under their own canopy high above the river, and in the river below, another single woman was floating with a noodle. But wow, that sandbank was steep! The river’s water level is exceptionally low due to our persistent drought, but still, it looked so inviting. So I left my chair and belongings high on the bank and struggled down the slope, my age obvious to the woman in the water below. “Come on down, MeeMa!” she encouraged me using a colloquialism for “Grandma,” and down I went. She offered me a swig from her pint of whiskey (I declined), then I spent some time happily floating in the clean black water and chatting with my new friend floating on her noodle nearby. The other family watched over us, and one of them offered to bring my chair and belongings down to the water’s edge. And while he was at it, I got him to snap a picture of me in my element. Then his daughter ran down to jump in the water with me. Perfect!

But eventually I had to leave the comfort of the 84-degree water and make my way back up the slope with my belongings. Ugh, it looked nearly impossible, but it wasn’t difficult at all. The gal in the water with me jumped out to help me, and between the two of us I managed to get myself and my belongings to the top of the bank again. It’s a bummer getting old and being recognized as such. But yes, it’s great that people are around to offer help that before this I never needed.

Not far from St. Marys Cove is a county park, St. Marys Shoals, which also professes to have access to the river. On the way there, I stopped at a little roadside “honor system” shop stocked with freshly made food and other goods. When I finally got to St. Marys Shoals, the kind man at the front gate explained that my car would not be able to get to the river, and indeed the other people in the parking lot all had e-bikes or other powered transportation. But I was able to use their clean, large restroom to change out of my wet bathing suit — something I was loath to do in the little outhouse at St. Marys Cove.

So I found a new place to cool off! I will do it again this summer for sure! And maybe with the help of Google Maps you will find it yourself and enjoy a refreshing swim that only black water can provide, at least for a Florida gator like myself.

Pat Foster-Turley, Ph.D., is a zoologist on Amelia Island. She welcomes your nature questions and observations. patandbucko@yahoo.com